Click
by DetectiveInspectorSydney
Summary: Amelia Bones bests Lord Voldemort using a mirror and a vase.


Click. A click of the lock. That is all the notice Amelia is given. Good job that she's never been one to be caught unawares. She knew he'd be after her. For her part, she'd known what Fudge was up to from the very beginning. The egomaniac was going down eventually, they all knew it, and she figured at the very least should could try to ride it out and minimize the damage from the inside. Of course she didn't want to believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned. No one _wanted _to admit that. The magnitude of what that would mean was almost too much for one mind to hold. She was terrified, and she was old enough now that she wasn't above admitting it. No one would dare question her strength and conviction.

If Albus Dumbledore said he was back, he was back. No figurehead or badly written op-ed piece was going to sway her from that. So, she hadn't made a lot of noise, but she hadn't made things easy for Cornelius and Dolores either. And honestly, that was probably what had kept her alive as long as it did. As long as she pretended to be under Fudge's spell. As long as she worked slowly, but not too slowly, her efforts went largely unnoticed, and the Dark Lord found bigger fish to fry.

But in the last month three months, he had become braver, and Britain, wizarding and muggle alike, had descended into barely restrained chaos. So, she'd known it could only be a matter of time. And it looked like her time was up.

Her back is to the front door that she had just locked behind her. Alohomora wouldn't have broken it, but it wasn't as if she were dealing with first years. The large mirror to her right, stretches just enough to provide his reflection. It is more hideous and unholy than she possibly could have imagined. The side table under the mirror holds various decorative pieces and knick knacks including a vase and an hourglass. She chooses the hourglass.

Amelia doesn't turn, her wand arms in an upwards motion, and sends the blue willow vase sailing straight for his head. He's not yet in the door. It won't injure him, but it will buy her a second, and that's all the time she needs. In the next moment she's turn on the spot and vanished. She didn't even hear the vase it the wall.

She lands, panting, in the front garden of her brother's cottage. The dog must have barked, but her sister in law comes charging out the front door wand at the ready.

"Where is Susan?" Are the first words out of Amelia's mouth. Susan, who was supposed to be taking the Knight Bus to her house to meet her. Susan, who was spending a few weeks with her ahead of a family trip, and then the start of her sixth year. Susan, whom she had been surprised and then relieved to find was not already in the sitting room when she'd arrived home. Susan, whom she couldn't love more if she were her own daughter.

"Wha-wh-Amelia!" Vera stammered. Having regained control of her limbs, she grabs the younger woman by the shoulders and shakes her.

"Susan! She wasn't there when I got home. Where is she?" And in that moment Susan appears.

"Auntie!" Sixteen years old, and already so much like her grandmother. Small though Susan is, her hug swallows Amelia whole. She gives a half-laugh, half-sob into her niece's hair. Susan pulls away.

"Auntie, what's wrong-"

"Susan where were you?" Amelia's voice is a little louder, a little more forceful, and Susan answers her immediately.

"I wasn't supposed to come until tomorrow." The sentence takes a minute to reverberate inside Amelia's skull. Tomorrow. And slowly, she remembers that tomorrow is Saturday.

Amelia's assumes that she looks rather wan, because Susan's concern is a reflection of Vera's own. Amelia can't afford to indulge them.

"Where's Icarus?" The man so named, joins them in the garden. The part of Amelia's brain where inappropriate humor is stored, is musing that she wishes she could get the Auror's to just show up whenever they're names are spoken.

"Amy-" Well things must be really bad. Icarus hasn't called her that since Edgar died. Mentally Amelia shakes herself. _Of course things are bad. You-Know-Who just arrived to murder you in your own home. Merlin's Pants get a grip._ She doesn't have for this, they all have to get out. She relinquishes Susan, musters whatever adrenaline she can to keep her voice from shaking. Time is of the essence.

"Icarus, it's him. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He came to my house. I barely escaped. There's no time to explain. I've already made the mistake of coming here. You have to get out. Get inside, grab some clothes. Get out. Go underground, at least for now. Hide with Vera's parents. I don't care, but once he's failed at capturing me, he'll be angry, and he'll have it in for you."

Vera, extricates Susan from Amelia's side, pointedly ignoring her protests. In the exchange, Vera squeezes Amelia's hand. That's all she can offer her sister.

Icarus looks like he wants to argue.

"Please, Icarus, I saw him. I can't lose another brother." Icarus recoils involuntarily.

"Where will you go?" Amelia smiles at him sadly.

"You know I can't tell you that." They reach for each other, she kisses him quickly on the cheek and backs away. She gets one last glimpse of Susan from the window, and then she disappears, almost as quickly as she had come.

Less than twelve hours later Arthur Weasley steps numbly through the wreckage of Amelia Bones' home. Icarus and Vera Bones have so far been unreachable. The place is absolutely destroyed, but the only blood is a small fleck, half-way up the wall by the door, a blue vase broken below it. There is no body. Almost as an after-thought, he notes a large hour-glass sitting under the shattered mirror. Oddly, it is the only object in his vicinity that appears to be untouched, and though a steady stream is pouring down, there is still plenty of sand sitting at the top.

Fin

**A/N: Word Count: About 1,036.**

**Prompt: Save Amelia Bones.**

**Additional Prompts:**

**2\. (word) reflection**

**3\. (object) vase**

**15\. (object) hour-glass**


End file.
